Plush
by tsunami90
Summary: Was it pathetic that, despite his growing body, he still felt a heavy tie to the sheriff doll? His lanky limbs flowed over Andy's palms, except for one tiny, plastic hand that has somehow linked itself to his owner's finger.


_Author's Note__: After watching Toy Story 3 a few nights ago, my love for all of Andy's toys has been rekindled- and, no doubt, the ending of the trilogy brought a tear to my eye. There's a chunk of Andy's life missing from the plotline, although parts of it's briefly explained. _

_Perfect fan fiction opportunity. I've seen it done a few times before, where writers decide to explain certain events in Andy's life that aren't canon to the original plot, and I've joined the bandwagon. I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed writing it._

_- Kimberly C._

**Plush  
**_A Toy Story Fan-Fiction._

* * *

Andy Davis twisted the pencil between his fingers, his form slumped over the desk as he glared at the crossed words on his paper. Running a hand through his sandy hair, he huffed an irate breath, "This paper is ridiculous."

The sixteen year old had much better things to do than the assignment now placed before him. The clock to his right boldly read 1:27 a.m. and acted as a constant reminder of his error- the answered prompt was due in eight hours. The writing material he once wrung thoughtfully was now between his teeth, a habit he had carried over from his childhood. He ceased chewing the eraser long enough to read the prompt aloud:

"Name and explain one item/person/etc. that has greatly affected your life."

It should have been simple! All he had to do was find something that meant a lot to him and babble as much as he could on the subject. That's it. He had all but conned his way through all of the other composition papers he had written for Ms. Wells; why was this one proving to be so much harder?

Andy dropped his forehead against the oak desk, groaning in spite of himself. There was no way he was going to finish his work before the morning rolled around…

… A loud knock brought him jolting from his slouch, darting his head to his left as he peered into the darkness of his room. After a moment of silence, he slowly turned back to his work area. "Insomnia's getting to me," He muttered to himself as he wiped his hands over his face. His mind was returning to the task at hand, which was relieving to the teen until he heard the same sound once again.

"Who's there?" Andy's whisper was harsh- he wasn't even sure if he was talking to anyone or _anything_ in particular, but his imagination was running wild. He rose from his chair, drawing his hands into fists as he took a step forward. "Hello?" Straining to see beyond the darker regions of his room, his eye caught a small form crumpled on the floor. Another cautious step forward and he was standing next to the item.

It was one of his toys, but he wasn't sure how it had ended up on the floor. He had not been near the desolate toy box since he was twelve, but he knew that all of his remaining playthings that he had allowed himself to keep were all tucked neatly inside that box. So, how had this one managed to fall from the closed container? He shook his head of the strange thought and knelt for the doll. The moment his hand took hold of the shadowed figure, a smile graced his lips.

Andy hadn't picked up any old toy- it had been his most prized friend as a child, passed down to him from his father before his tragic death. Retrieving the worn, leather hat from the floor, the young man placed it to the cowboy's head and gently laughed, "Howdy, sheriff."

Was it pathetic that, despite his growing body, he still felt a heavy tie to the sheriff doll? His lanky limbs flowed over Andy's palms except for one tiny, plastic hand that has somehow linked itself to his owner's finger. The toy was old, but his painted smile and auburn eyes were still genuinely pristine and made Andy feel a bit comforted. His plush body was still soft to the touch, but his clothes were slightly tattered and the

Mustard button up had faded into a paler shade of yellow. Before the boy knew it, he pulled the inanimate object into a warm embrace.

It was then clear what he needed to write his essay over, but he would get to that at a later time.

* * *

The task was complete and Andy was finally lost in his own slumber. The doll, once dormant on the edge of the teen's desk, slowly lifted himself forward, tilting his hat forward as his usual routine. Rising to his feet, the rangy cowboy listened to the silence for a brief moment before faintly calling, "Guys? Can you hear me?"

"Affirmative, Woody." Came a slightly militant response- despite his role as a toy, Buzz Lightyear was as loyal as one could be. Woody glanced towards the chest below where the space ranger doll, followed by a cowgirl, emerged. The two looked up to their leader, catching his overwhelmed expression in the moonlight, "Are you okay?"

The cowgirl was the first to reach him, her usually high-spirited demeanor held back as she skeptically linked arms with her series counterpart, "How'd it go, cowboy?"

"Jess," Woody's face faltered in a way that would have meant tears for a human, but his eyes stayed glued to the paper by his feet. If he had a heart, it would be pulsating at a dangerous pace from the adrenaline rush he had gotten from his recent encounter. His owner, the boy he had watched grow up before his plastic eyes into the man now sleeping across the room had remembered their adventures. He had remembered the long nights he had stayed up beyond his bedtime playing with the hand-me-down and telling him his every thought.

He even recalled the moments he had taken Woody to his father's funeral, clutching the doll tightly to his chest from the moment the sermon started to the last mound of dirt shoveled onto the fresh grave. He had written about it in great detail, even going to the limits of asking the doll if he had remembered the same.

How Woody wished he could have answered Andy without worry. His owner had shown him _love_, genuine love that he had failed to receive from the boy since he was locked away in his toy box dungeon. His owner had held him, talked to him as he did as a child, and even hugged him ever-so-softly before retiring to the early morning twilight. A swift shake from Jessie, caused him to jolt from his thoughts, slowly turning his gaze to her, "Andy loved me."

"Of course he did, you silly varmint." She grinned softly, her emerald eyes delighted for her friend. "You've been there for him much longer than any of us."

Buzz, who had accompanied them on the desktop rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he glanced over Andy's prompt. "It's not a matter that he 'did'," The ranger began, gaining a baffled glare from the western toys. Upon realizing his mistake, he quickly continued, "Did you read the last few lines of his essay, sheriff?"

"N-no," At that Woody stepped forward, towering over his shorter friend's stature as he peered at the writing worriedly, "What is it?"

"Don't worry, it's nothing bad." A smile crept to Buzz's face, dimples forming along the sides of his upturned lips. He knelt into the words, running under them with his index finger as he read aloud, "Woody is more than just a simple toy; whereas most toys are forgotten, stored away to never be used again or tossed to decay in a landfill, he's always got my back. He's been there for me more than any person has and despite not being a living being with a beating heart such as ourselves, he'll always be my true best friend. Some ties simply can't be broken with time or age."

The sheriff bit his knuckle to fight for his composure and was sure that his heart would have just busted with euphoria if it existed.

Despite belief, his little buckaroo had never really grown apart from him after all.


End file.
